by Bethan Johns
Sitting up, I soaked in the cool breeze on my sweaty skin. I looked down on Elliot’s already reddening skin. He did not have a tan yet this year and was going to have quite a burn.
It would heal quickly. His skin looked soft and perfect next to mine. Mine was a darker brown and showed more scars and blemishes than his.
Elliot had seen his fair share of battle and had spent many hours with shield and sword in his hand. He bore scars, a warrior prince in truth.
He was just younger, still fresh. Though he would scoff at nearly eight millennia being called fresh if I were to say so to his face.
I moved a stray strand of golden hair from his face to tuck behind his pointed ear. I chuckled at the golden hoops adorning the ear, Elliot was a fad follower. The earrings had gone in and out of fashion many times. I could always tell what stage of fashion we were in based on whether or not Elliot had golden hoops in his ears.
Looking around one more time, I sighed and rifted us back into his large bright bedroom. I was standing at his bedside and he was still sleeping soundly, his bed now covered in sand.
I thought then of Mara, the grumpy head-housekeeper who would surely tell off the prince for the mess and laughed to myself as I went to bathe and dress to go see Reves, the Nephilim Commander.
I rifted to the front gates of the Nephilim fortress. Nodding to the two guards standing on either side as I walked through, I gazed up at the immense structure.
Nephilim were the policing force for the Fae, born of Fae and Angels initially, their appearance only varied by shades of gold. Golden hair, eyes, and skin. They were beautiful. They were also deadly.
Nephilim had access only to creation magic, and a modified version at that. They could only create non-living matter. They had sheer numbers making their armies formidable. Nephilim were born and bred to fight. There were multiple planes full of only them.
I was walking up to their head commander’s fortress now.
It was magnificent, the Nephilim creation magic building skill was hard to match. A gigantic structure of dark, granite-like stone rising high into the clouds, sprawling courtyards and gardens lay beyond the spiraling labyrinth that was their walls. There were thousands of Nephilim soldiers housed in the keep alone, not to mention the thousands more in the city below.
Once I entered into the inner keep area, there was less hustle and bustle. The odd servant would walk by inclining their head to me as they went.
I was out of place here and I knew it, with my black wings, darkly tanned skin, and black leather armour. I intentionally let my golden eyes seep into obsidian to distinguish myself further as I walked the silent hallways to the chamber in which I had been told the commander would be waiting for me.
As I strode through the doors, he stood. He quickly dismissed the three other Nephilim he had been speaking with around a long dining style table and they inclined their heads to me in turn as they scurried out the door.
I returned the motion.
Reves face lit up “Gaelen Stormcleaver. It has been many years.”
I moved forward and bared an answering smile “Reves Alevia. It indeed has, I hope all fares well.”
He sat down, I followed suit snapping my wings away in the awkward chair. He noted the movement and smiled as a servant brought forth drinks. Taking mine, I took a long draught, snapping my fingers to refill it before the servant could scurry over.
The female Nephilim blushed, unsure how to proceed. Reves raised his eyebrows.
“Torrilyn, you’re free to go.”
She quickly left the room.
I smirked at Reves, he had gotten the point.
“All is well here, and with yourself and Prince Elliot?” He asked politely.
I nodded, taking another drink.
“Yes, Elliot is well.” I waved my hand dismissively. “Your fortress has improved. It is most impressive.”
His smile was true now, pride shone in his eyes. “My Nephilim’s handiwork is masterful is it not?” he asked.
I nodded returning the smile, “Genuinely, it is magnificent.”
We were silent for a moment.
“Why are you here Gaelen?” he asked easily.
Formalities over with, I set down my glass with a light noise on the table.
“I want to know what you think of the upset between the Elfin, Howelltie, and Queen Aubliette.”
He looked at me over his drink thoughtfully for a moment.
“Off the record?” he asked
I scoffed “Of course. Always.”
He sighed putting his drink down also. “I think she is behaving recklessly and causing much discord.”
I watched him for a moment. “Do you know how the Nephilim council members are swaying?”
He shook his head. “I have been trying to gain a trusted ear on the council for years, I am still working towards it.”
I raised my brows at him “You would think the Chief Commander of all the armies of the Nephilim would have more clout.”
He laughed. “You would think the Chief Commander of the Crown Prince’s armies would have more clout also.”
I smirked at him. “Yes, but I have worked long and hard to ruin any reputation for good-naturedness. You; however, have yet to taint yours.”
His turn to raise a brow, “You say it like its inevitable.”
“It is, you will get tired of the politics. You will long for the feel of sword in hand. Your words will begin to be weapons, your power to be wielded like a knife to the throat.” I answered him.
He was young for one so powerful, only a few hundred years old. I had heard stories of his prowess on the battlefield and how he had worked his way up by sheer force of will. He would be a good commander to have by my side in a war. I could tell he was sizing me up the same way.
Sighing, he spoke. “You know how they think of me Gaelen, all sword and no brain. They do not realise how much political intelligence it takes to be a leader of warriors. Some of the most feared creatures on the planes answer to me.”
I nodded in understanding.
Leaning forward and lifting my glass to him I said softly “To someday letting the ones with the scarred hands make the decisions.”
He leaned forward and chinked his glass against mine.
“Come see me again soon Gaelen, I fear war is afoot.”
I grinned at him, letting my canines grow just a touch longer.
Chapter 4 – Revenge
Year 10,202 AC
Sierade
Time had no meaning. I could not remember how long it had been since I had spoken to another being other than Tundra. I did not need to.
I did not need food, nor water. Tundra gave me everything.
Whatever we needed, we took. Whatever we wanted, we created.
Tundra became my lover, my friend, my sister and brother, my parents and teacher.
I became Tundra’s obsession.
It was a love affair to last the ages. When we had first merged, Tundra was too strong. I could not get in even a single thought, let alone a word, but over time I had stroked and clawed my way to the forefront.
A word in here, a cognitive thought there. I would tell Tundra of my love for it.
It would preen for me.
Eventually I told it I loved music and Tundra created a plane of sound for me. We stayed there for years crashing through the waves of noise until the cacophony began to make sense in undulating patterns, I showed Tundra how to turn noise into music.
We danced. We loved it.
We were floating, in a space between, when I felt a whispering stroke in my mind. Like a voice. I asked Tundra to bring us to Faery
I asked it to give me silence.
There. I felt it, beautiful, familiar, like a hand gently tugging on mine, trying to bring me home.
Tundra did not want me to leave. I listened. For many more years, we roamed, and I would here and there feel that hand in mine. I would hear a tingling whisper in my ear.
The
closer Tundra and I grew, the more we loved one another. Tundra began to understand that I could not be happy until I went to find the source of that voice.
My heart aching, I asked Tundra to let me go, promising I would return to it one day.
We both knew I would.
Tundra told me I would be able to see things now, I would be able to wield incredible power and that I would be able to speak to it. That I would be able to whisper things to it, and siphon from it when I needed.
I cried as I let go of those silver ropes, weeping as they slid through my fingers.
✽✽✽
Sylek
I was standing high in the mountains on a secondary Howelltie plane, making my way to a high-ranking mercenary camp. One of the last ones I would need to conquer to be at the top of the list for independent contracts.
I was already obtaining offers from many potential employers, but I wanted the best of the best.
I stopped to catch my breath after a particularly significant climb that had taken several hours when I felt her.
She hit me like a tidal wave.
Sierade.
She was there in my mind, in full form again, stronger than when she had left. She said nothing, but I knew she could feel me too.
Spinning around, I felt her before I saw her where she stood twenty feet from me. Her hair was no longer chestnut, but dark obsidian and her eyes pulsed with silver magic.
She was gaunt, thin, delicate like glass, yet watching the smile slowly creeping onto her face, I knew she was anything but.
Her hair blew around her, and there was an aura of pure energy just leaking out of her. But her mind, her mind was clear.
It was she, Sierade.
With a sob, I fell to my knees. As she moved towards me, I put my hand out, and she stopped.
“You called to me” she said.
I looked at her incredulously. It was her voice.
“I did. I called to you many times.”
She began to move towards me again and I slowly stood to let her look at me.
“You are taller and broader. You are stronger.” She said quietly.
She stood now nearly in front of me, her eyes raised to meet mine.
“What year is it Sylek?”
Hearing my name on her tongue nearly undid me. I had thought I would never hear it again.
Though it had been so long, the syllables sounded like the most familiar echo I could think of. It sounded like home.
“10,202 A.C.”
Her eyes widened, and she took me in again, her eyes now raking my body.
“I was gone for one hundred years?” She asked hoarsely.
I nodded, swallowing. “What happened to you?”
“I was magic merging with Tundra.” She said.
I let the shock roll over me. I knew it, in my heart I knew that is what had happened, even though it was impossible. I had known, but to hear her say it was like a punch to the gut.
Tentatively, I reached my hand to her face and stroked her cheek. She felt as she always had. She was truly here.
She smiled up at me and put her hand over mine leaning into the caress, she stepped closer. I could feel the energy pulsing off her like a furnace, even at the top of the mountain.
I put my arms around her and pulled her in tightly against me. She was so frail and fragile, like a bird. She ran her fingers through my hair and pulled my head back climbing up my body, the way she used to, to kiss me deeply. I groaned deeply and fell to the ground pushing her into the snow.
She smiled up at me and snapped her fingers, our clothing was gone. She pushed me off of her and straddled my hips running her fingers over my body. I did the same to hers. It was like our first time again, exploring, excited. I growled and throwing her in the snow plunged myself deep inside of her. I ran a finger down her mind and she opened her doors for me, I let my magic rampage through her, I was not careful.
We did not make love, this was violent. Even our magic merging was violent. When I brushed my fire magic against hers, our power erupted around us. The ecstasy was enough to bring the mountains down around us.
When she found her release, screaming and writhing her pleasure beneath me and around me, she exploded with a silver energy so pure the mountains indeed did tremble and snow did roll.
We lay, on the top of a crumbling mountain, all the snow having been blasted away in our passion and I held her to me, afraid to let go.
A few days later I awoke to the sound of her dressing. We were in an inn at a waypoint atop the very same mountain where she had found me.
Spending the last few days making love, telling each other the stories of the last century had felt like a dream.
Surreal.
She told me about her Tundra, about the fact that it was a living creature. A powerful, dangerous, and easily misunderstood creature, but a creature all the same.
She told me with quiet awe about the power she had touched. The power she had gained since, raw magic.
Not unheard of, but rare to carry raw, unformed power like that. I told her of my battles through the mercenary camps, about how close I was to completing my goal.
I asked her about all the places she had been, and she described the journeys she had taken. The rare sights she had seen. There were moments during her storytelling that her eyes would get a far-off quality and I knew she was speaking with Tundra in her mind.
Sierade looked different now, just as beautiful, if not more, but different still.
Darker, older, she seemed a little more serious.
I sat up in bed as she turned around to look at me. Her eyes darkening as they ran up my body, enough so to make me blush.
She noticed and smiled mischievously at me.
Bounding over lightly she bounced into the bed on top of me. I gathered her up in my arms. “Where are you going?” I asked her.
I felt her laugh rather than heard it. “I am going to get some revenge.”
I leaned back letting my hands roam over her leather-clad thighs where she sat atop me.
“Revenge on whom?”
She leaned forward now, laying across my chest. “The people who have hurt me. If they are still living.”
I nodded. “It shall be so. I am coming with you.”
I pushed her gently from me and stood. Turning around, I looked at her rumpled in the bed. “Unless this is another one of those things you need to do alone? One where I won’t see you for a century?”
She rolled her eyes at me “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
I raised my eyebrows “It’s been less than a week, mind you, if the sex keeps up like this you’re only looking at a matter of years for forgiveness rather than centuries.”
She scoffed and threw a pillow at me which I caught easily narrowing my eyes at her.
We both knew I was teasing, I could never blame her for leaving. She had told me what it had been like, and though it was impossible, it had happened to her.
I moved over to where she was sitting, taking her hands. “Listen Siera, I know that this power, while incredible, is also frightening. I know that whatever destiny you have in store…” She raised her eyebrows at me and I smiled sadly as I continued. “…whatever destiny, or fate, you have tangled up in your future is vital. I also know that while I may not be a part of it, I will always love you and always be part of you. I will forever be here for you as long as I live.”
A single tear rolled down her cheek, she wiped it away quickly, nodded, and raised her chin.
“I love you Sylek Darque, and wherever my journey may take me, I will always hold tightly to that whisper in the dark, as long as I live.”
I kissed her softly. I pulled on my clothing and gathered my things. I handed her the curved silver blade I had held onto for her and watched as she took it, tested its weight and smiled up at me before grabbing my hand and rifting us.
We were standing in a courtyard of the school where we had been raised as children. She looke
d down at herself and then to me. Eyes sparking “I want to look like death.” She said.
I merely nodded. I knew what we were doing here.
She snapped her fingers and suddenly she was wearing a black dress, if you could even call it that. It was a thin material you could see much through and it reached just below the top of her thighs with enough airiness to swish around her hips.
